


Reason To Think Aloud

by clockworkrobots



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Phone Calls & Telephones, Season/Series 09
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-28
Updated: 2013-11-28
Packaged: 2018-01-02 22:16:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clockworkrobots/pseuds/clockworkrobots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean makes a late-night Thanksgiving call.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reason To Think Aloud

  
Dean doesn't even really realise he's dialling Cas until the phone is already ringing. Sleepy with a belly full of turkey and tired from several lifetimes of dark thoughts, Dean probably wouldn't have been able to stop himself, in any case. By the time his brain is caught up enough to act, Cas' voice is already crackling through the line.

"Dean?"

Dean clears his throat, and awkwardly shifts his phone from his left hand to his right. "Cas, hey. Um--fuck, I'm sorry, I don't really know why I called you," he says, pinching the bridge of his nose as he sits back on his bed. 

"That's fine. I'm not busy."

"You at work?" Dean asks, hoping he's not interrupting something serious. He remembers how much that job meant to Cas, even weeks later.

A long beat of silence follows, enough to be suspicious, but Dean waits for Cas' explanation. "No," he finally says, and doesn't elaborate. Dean has a biting retort waiting on his tongue, ready to point out Cas' blatant omission, but he stops himself before he can sour their conversation so soon. Dean doesn't feel he has the right to call Cas on his secrets anymore, not when he has so many of his own, festering in the cold recesses of his regrets.

"Right," he says instead. "Well, me and Sam just wrapped a job up ourselves. We're back at the bunker now again."

"Mmm," Cas hums, waiting for Dean to continue.

"We, uh--well, it was Kevin's idea, though I think he meant it as a joke--we're having a bit of a Thanksgiving dinner, for once," Dean smiles, still tasting the remnants of their stolen revelry on his tongue. "Not a big turkey or anything, but there's a bird. And potatoes, and... stuff, you know. Cooked it all myself." He's actually pretty proud, of how it all turned out, if he does say so himself.

He thinks he hears Cas smile back when he replies, "I'm sure it was delicious."

"Yeah," he chuckles. "Yeah, uh, it was--it was good. Sam and Kevin seemed to have fun, at least, for once."

"And you?"

Dean frowns, not following. "And me what?"

"Did _you_ have fun?" Cas asks, and Dean has absolutely no idea what to say. 

"Um, sure. I mean, yeah, I guess," he offers weakly, floundered. It should be enough that he had fun because Sam and Kevin did, right? He asks himself, but he doesn't know anymore.

"We all got a little tipsy on cheap whiskey," he continues, shutting his eyes and leaning back against the headboard.

"And that's why you called me," Cas states flatly in understanding, but it's _all wrong_.

"What? No, no, not cause you're just a quick drunk dial, Jesus," Dean corrects quickly, desperate to have Cas understand how much he just wants to _talk_ to him without having to _say_. "No, I called 'cause I--" he balls his free hand into a fist. "'Cause I wished you could'a been there."

" _Dean_ \--"

Dean clenches his jaw, and lets out a shuddering breath, the dam let loose now. "Fuck, what even is the point of a Thanksgiving without you, man?" he whispers quietly, almost too quiet, but he knows Cas hears from the intake of breath on the other side.

"I've never celebrated it with you before," Cas says softly but solemnly a few seconds later.

"Yeah, but that was before you..."

"Before I was human, you mean," Cas supplies. 

"No," Dean shakes his head, though he knows Cas can't see. "Before we even had a home to have it in. God, it's not like me 'n' Sam have been celebrating ourselves at all in the past few years. Not since Bobby... Hell, even before."

It's been a long time since they had something _worth celebrating,_ Dean thinks bitterly. He doesn't even feel like he deserves anything _this_ year, but he couldn't deny giving _something_ to Kevin and Sam. Something that he actually has it in him to give, yet: if not truth and answers, then at least the semblance of it with a happy meal. He hopes his small little family understood what he meant when he cooked and laughed with them at dinner: _I love you and I'm sorry._

"I wish I could have been there, too," Cas says, and Dean's chest tightens and aches.

He presses the phone closer to his ear, in an absurd move to be _closer_. "Soon, man, soon," he says, not knowing if it's a promise he can keep, but needing to make it anyway. Needing to make it like he needs _Cas_ , always.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Dean," Cas says, sadness evident in his voice, and Dean hates himself for putting it there.

"Seem to be full of them these days," he mumbles, more to himself than anything.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing, just--" he sighs. "Forget it. Forget me," Dean tells him finally, sorry for everything, but especially _this_. _This_ meaning everything Dean's done to fuck up what friendship they had going, for ending what could have been, for this phone call even, made in the middle of the night when all good people have gone to bed.

"Oh, Dean, I don't think I could _ever_ forget you," Cas says, with fierce disagreement. His voice sounds rougher than usual, and tired, too, but his words are still clear, echoing in Dean's ear. "Even when I forgot myself, when I was Emmanuel, I still _knew_ you, somehow, deep down."

Dean laughs hollowly. "Guess the bad shit stays with us more than the good, huh?"

"That might be true in some cases, though certainly not when it comes to you. You are a _good thing_ , Dean," he says, and Dean feels a little bit like crying, then, in the lamplight of his bedroom. "And I will always remember how bright you were, the first time I saw your soul."

"Cas--"

"Dean, if I am thankful for anything," Cas continues, "it's that I met you."

As much as he _wants_ to believe it, _needs_ to hear Cas say it, Dean is still unsure. "Even after all the shit that's happened since?"

"Even after all the shit," Cas affirms, and the sound of his own words in Cas' mouth makes Dean so delighted that he laughs.

"God, it's nice to hear you swear once in a while," he smiles into the phone.

"I can be far more fucking crass than that, if you want," Cas offers slyly.

Dean feels a burst of pride and affection bloom in his ribcage. "You're learning the _real_ human skill sets, then. Congrats, buddy."

"Thank you," he says, utterly serious--or at least with a perfect deadpan--and Dean laughs again. 

"Nah, thank _you_. Thanks for, you know, talking. I missed..." he trails off, at a loss. How can he possibly say everything in one word? Hell, _'everything'_ isn't even enough, because he misses so much more than that, too. He misses things he never even had, like Cas' hands on his face, like his lips under his, like his voice in his ear as he falls asleep beside him. Dean has so much longing in his body he feels stretched thin, ready to break.

Somehow, Castiel hears what he means all the same. "Me too," he says, and the sound reverberates through Dean's very soul.

 _Thank you, for everything,_ they both mean to say, and more.

_Me too._


End file.
